


two first dates

by kaermorons



Series: Witcher PTA AU [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, First Dates, Geralt is a single dad, Inadvertent 5+1, Jaskier continues to be a dumbass, Karaoke, M/M, Oral Sex, PTAU, Songs You Sing Your Crush When You Want Them To Know They Can Get It, Stalking but in a friendship way, alternate universe - PTA, it's not a songfic if it's karaoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaermorons/pseuds/kaermorons
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier finally go on their "real" first date, with Yennefer and Tissaia stalking them on their own date.or, Five Songs Jaskier Sang To Geralt and One Song Geralt Sang To Jaskier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Witcher PTA AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647940
Comments: 19
Kudos: 186





	two first dates

**Author's Note:**

> Follow along with the [official karaoke date playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5gvB9i5L1okTOKQtYVhKMg) when Jas starts to sing! Enjoy!
> 
> (because my paranoid brain says so: I do not in any way claim to own the songs listed below. They're just karaoke BOPS and had it coming.)

Geralt hadn’t called him in three days. Things were going well, Jaskier thought. His mopey ass brought him to a solo Coffee Thursday that left him gazing wistfully up the road for so long he was almost late for school that morning.

It’s probably good to note that it  _ wasn’t _ a Thursday, and Jaskier realized that, with embarrassment, as soon as he got in. He’s never hated Tuesday as a concept more than now.

Bemoaning his woes to Yennefer only yielded disappointed looks and a condescending pat on the head. “That’s what you get for going without me.”

Jaskier kept that in mind as they finished up what was probably the most difficult spin class of his life that following Thursday. Legs jelly, brain just as bad, Yen dragged him to the coffee house and instructed him to sit. The seat before the pane glass only reminded him of his pathetic moping two days prior, and worsened his mood on top of his poor muscles.

Excited chatter filled the shop and Jaskier’s stomach dropped, whether out of dread or anticipation, Jaskier wasn’t sure. Geralt never ran by, though. The whole shop seemed stunned into silence as the door jingled open, and the man in question managed to squeeze his frame through the opening. He met Jaskier’s eyes almost instantly and never once flicked away. He practically prowled forward toward the man on the stool. Jaskier had enough brains to stand for Geralt’s arrival. “H-hi.” he breathed out shakily, nerves threatening to take over.

“Good morning.” and  _ ooooh, _ if Jaskier’s body had forgotten the sound of Geralt’s voice, the heat rising in Jaskier’s gut certainly did not.

Jaskier knew he was a fool for Geralt, but he was still mad at the radio silence. “You didn’t call me back about our date.” He says, steeling himself against every other instinct to throw himself at Geralt’s feet.

“My phone. Kicked it.” Geralt grunted out, looking for the first time, a little bashful. He fished out what was little more than a crumpled piece of metal.

“Oh thank god.” Jaskier breathed.

Geralt looked at him, confused for a moment, before tossing his head back and laughing. Jaskier could feel every eye in the shop on the two of them, but he didn’t care. “Why are you still carrying it around if it’s dead?” Jaskier asked.

“I needed to prove I wasn’t ignoring you.” Geralt said, looking back down with intense sincerity. Jaskier’s heart skipped a few beats at the confession.

“I think...this...is sufficient enough evidence.” Jaskier smiled, closing Geralt’s fingers over the phone that was still proffered. His palm was warm, broad, calloused differently from Jaskier’s. The skin contact set his nerves alight again.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” Geralt asked. Not a single soul observing the two moved.

“In an assassin way or in a date way?” Jaskier blurted out.

Again, that boyish laughter pealed from Geralt’s lips. “You’re too cute for the first, so let’s call it a date.” Geralt tilted his head affectionately down at Jaskier, who had lost feeling in his face at the smile that had taken up residence there. “I’m not sure the contacts will transfer over when I get my new phone today, so can I—”

A few pens flew at their heads from all directions. Jaskier blushed at the obvious audience, and picked one up, taking Geralt’s hand in his and flipping it over so he could carefully, slowly write out his number on Geralt’s skin. He ended it with a tiny heart and a J. “There. Don’t sweat it off before you can put it down somewhere.” Jaskier said, capping the pen and looking back up at Geralt, who had taken a step closer.

“Thank you. I’ll call you on your lunch.” Geralt said, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier’s cheek. “See you, sweetheart.”

Jaskier was still standing there, pen in hand, when Geralt walked out of the shop and resumed his run. Through the glass, he threw a wink to Jaskier before he was out of view.

The chaos that erupted in the coffee shop was deafening.

* * *

Texting Geralt was a fucking nightmare, but Jaskier was in deep. Every time a message notification came in, his hands would start to shake and sweat, and when he’d finally work his way up to reading it, Jaskier would throw his phone at the bed as hard as he could, because of how frustrating Geralt was. This happened every single time. He got some information about their date Friday, but not too much more than “we’re going on a date Friday”.

He was taking this very well, by all accounts. Could’ve been worse.

Except that  _ worse _ happened when Geralt knocked on Jaskier’s apartment door three minutes early, and Jaskier still didn’t have a shirt on. This was, in fact, due to Jaskier’s tendency to overthink and put off decision-making until the last second, and Jaskier had, seconds before, decided he didn’t want to wear the light-blue shirt he’d worn to the dance a week prior. He wanted Geralt to think he had more than three shirts.

Being half-naked answering the door wasn’t helping the case.

“Geralt!” Jaskier breathed, cursing himself for not checking the peephole before answering the door. Geralt said nothing, giving him an approving up-and-down before resting his lips in a smirk. “Oh come now, no leering. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Jaskier shoved back his hair with one hand, messing up what he’d spent hours on just before. It distracted Geralt’s gaze and allowed him to watch Jaskier’s skin move over his muscles and bones. So there was a reason Jaskier liked to laze about coffee houses in gym clothes, and it wasn’t the middle-aged mom excuse the PTA sharks at Aretuza used.

“Having trouble dressing?” Geralt said, taking a step in when Jaskier motioned for him to enter. He leaned back, appraisingly, on the door, hands in his pockets. Jaskier’s mouth went a little dry when he felt the heat of that golden gaze rake over his body, and he blushed.

“In fact, yes. I’m actually quite anxious about this whole thing.” Jaskier admitted. He looked down, grabbing the selected olive tee and shrugging it over his head. Geralt didn’t think strip teases could be at all enjoyable in reverse, and yet here they were.

“Why’s that?” Geralt asked, pushing off the door and closing the distance between them. Boldly, he raised a hand and pushed back a lock of Jaskier’s floppy hair so it rested away from his eyes. Geralt looked down at him and fixed him with an expectant look. Right. Jaskier hadn’t been answering, let alone breathing.

“I haven’t been on a date that wasn’t well. Orchestrated by higher powers. In awhile.” Jaskier knew he sounded very stilted and uncomfortable, but his heart was pounding at the soft brush of a hand over his cheek.

“Nothing to worry about. We’ll go at whatever pace you’d like.” Geralt’s hand slipped down, over the side of Jaskier’s neck and resting on his shoulder. The thin material of the shirt did nothing to stop the heat spreading from Geralt’s palm. Jaskier smiled up at him.

“Thank you, Geralt. I really was just trying not to freak myself out that such a gorgeous man would be interested in taking me out. Failed horribly at that.” he chuckled.

“This man is very close to preferring we just stay in.” Geralt murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Jaskier’s brow that belied the heat behind his words. Still waters running deep and all that.

“Tempting as that is, I’m bloody starving.” Jaskier’s blush colored his cheeks a pretty pink, and he tilted his head up to Geralt. Geralt pressed a small kiss on his lips before sliding his hand down Jaskier’s arm, taking his hand.

“Well then. No time to lose, sweetheart.”

* * *

The restaurant Geralt drove them to was older but not old, and definitely lived-in. There were several groups of people around the place, but the young woman at the reception stand led them to a quiet table in the corner. Geralt took his seat facing the door, and Jaskier took a seat to the side so he wouldn’t impede Geralt’s view. It was easy to not question him on it, as Jaskier understood plenty, given what happened that July. He shook himself from his thoughts.

“Ciri and I usually prefer to cook at home, but she begs to come to dinner here every so often.” Geralt said, handing him a worn, laminated menu. “Three words: duck fat fries.”

“Oh,  _ yes _ please.” Jaskier groaned, eyes glazing over a little as he attempted to look anywhere but that particular menu item. Geralt gave a little chuckle and squeezed Jaskier’s wrist affectionately. From their marathon hangout after the dance, Jaskier was very (very) familiar with how tactile Geralt’s affections were, and he appreciated it.

They fell into a nice conversation about the upcoming Olympics season.

“It’s really a pity. I only—” Geralt cleared his throat.  _ “We _ only really watch for Team Canada, and two of their best retired recently.”

“Virtue and Moir, right?” Jaskier said. Geralt looked up at him, surprised, but with great affection in his eyes. “What kind of bi man would I be if I didn’t keep up with the most beautiful ice dancers in the world?” Jaskier swore Geralt had hearts in his eyes, and wasn’t sure if it was for himself, or for Tessa and Scott.

“At least we have their skates from the past.” Geralt said.

“We’ll always have Paris.” Jaskier teased. “Doesn’t do much for right now, though, does it?” He pressed a kiss to Geralt’s knuckles, a little uncertainly, but to assure his lightheartedness.

They’re so wrapped up in themselves that they don’t notice the two women stalking them in the next booth over.

* * *

Yennefer had been instantly made aware of the date, as she was at the scene of the crime, so to speak. She’d let the news slip to Tissaia during lunch that Thursday, and Tissaia had gotten a very wicked look in her eyes.

“Well, judging how they’d been eyeing one another up at the dance last week, I’d say they need...chaperoning.” She punctuated this by a pointed sip of her tea.

“Chaperoning?” Yen laughed.

“Yes, chaperoning. We have to make sure they don’t do anything, well…” Tissaia was running out of legal reasons for wanting to stalk Aretuza’s newest couple.

“Anything unbecoming.” Yen nodded, mock-serious.

“Of course.” Tissaia said. “Where do you think they’ll go?”

Yennefer fixed her with a feral smile. “I know exactly where they’ll go.”

* * *

The disguises shouldn’t have been working this well. They were still dressed in their regular work clothes, all business casual. As a joke that had left them breathless and crying on the morning of their endeavor, they were only wearing birthday-party quality Groucho Marx disguises. They kept their conversation sotto voce, but grumbled that their fake mustaches kept getting in their wine. They soon found that writing back and forth on a piece of paper was much easier than trying to keep their voices pitched low, as Yen was the easier-spotted off the two.

_ Why are they talking about the Olympics so much? Are they joking?  _ Yen wrote.

_ For some reason I think they actually enjoy it. Can’t blame them - TIGHT CLOTHES = $$$$. _ Tissaia’s loopy, elegant handwriting looked hilarious when writing such gossip. Yen read the message while drinking her wine, sputtering a bit when reaching the end. She coughed on her wine while Tissaia tried to silently hide her giggles, which manifested into tears at the corners of her eyes. Yennefer was struck, for possibly the millionth time, by the beauty in the other woman, despite the silly disguise. A warm, fluttering feeling built in her gut, but her logical mind took aim and fired at each butterfly taking flight.  _ That particular flight is grounded, Yennefer, _ she scolded herself.

Tissaia leaned back against the booth, head tilted to better eavesdrop on the two men behind them. Her eyes, still smiling and sparkling with tears of laughter, turned to Yen, watching her with a small smile that Yennefer could only helplessly return.

* * *

“But no, I didn’t think I’d be any good at teaching. If that answers your question. What was your question?” Jaskier had the tendency to let his mouth drag the rest of him along without thinking, so he hoped Geralt was at least amused by it all.

By his beautiful laughter, he was quite amused. “I think I asked why you like teaching, but I liked whatever you were answering better.” Jaskier blushed prettily and took another fry from Geralt’s plate. Geralt responded in kind, stealing a pickle from Jaskier’s plate. Jaskier gasped indignantly.

“Pickle thief!” Jaskier declared. They momentarily noticed a nearby table shaking violently, held by white-knuckled grips, and sputtered laughter, but Geralt took the opportunity to take another pickle and pop it into his mouth.

“Mmm, they taste better when they’re from your plate.” Geralt teased. A fork dropped off the aforementioned shaking table.

(“Breathe, Yennefer.” Tissaia held her face in her hands, tears still streaming down her face at the effort it took not to laugh herself into oblivion. Yennefer made a squeak and held onto Tissaia’s wrists for dear life, thumb at her pulse. There was just so much to be happy about for her right then.)

“Well you owe me something now. That was your last fry.” Jaskier pointed out, cheeks beginning to hurt from grinning so often tonight.

“Well…” Geralt looked down, and grabbed the last pickle from his own plate. “How about eye for an eye, sweetheart?”

Jaskier blushed. He was trying very hard to keep it together whenever Geralt would call him that. It was very, very difficult not to strip off his clothes and present himself like he was dessert, right there on the table. Jaskier boldly leaned forward and moved to take a bite of the pickle, but Geralt was quicker, other hand coming up to tilt his face up for a kiss. Geralt’s kiss stole his breath, and left him rather dizzy from it all. When Jaskier managed to shake himself from his daze, Geralt was happily crunching away at the final pickle.

“You are a thief and a trickster, Geralt du Rivia.” Jaskier said, only sounding a little out of breath. It really didn’t sell the accusatory tone he was going for.

“Guilty. You look cute when you’re mad.” Geralt smirked, shrugging like that was as good an answer as any. Jaskier certainly did not harrumph and pout at him. “We gotta get going soon.”

“We’re done?” Jaskier asked, confused. He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. Geralt pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“No, sweetheart. We’re just done with dinner. I wanna take you somewhere you’ll like.” 

“Oh, a secondary location? How very  _ Dateline _ .” Jaskier teased.

“It’s a line. I used it on a date. Don’t see the problem. Does this smell like chloroform?” Geralt teased right back, waving his napkin at Jaskier, who burst into laughter and swatted away his hands. Something crashed from the other table, but neither cared. “Let me go pay and I’ll take you.”

Jaskier nodded and smiled, playing with the lacquery edge of the table. His chest felt so much lighter than it had been in years, and he was having fun, genuine fun, even though the entire idea of dating, making himself vulnerable again, was repulsive to him for so very long. As he watched Geralt at the cashier, he felt that same warmth spread through his veins, like a sunrise from a cold night. He bit his lip, holding his smile to himself.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” Geralt asked, taking Jaskier’s jacket and helping him into it, a repeat of the first time they did this. Jaskier felt his ears go red at the memory, so sweet and chaste.

“Take me to the free candy, mister.”

* * *

“A secondary location?” Yennefer hissed. “Geralt doesn’t do two-part dates! He barely does one-part dates!” The pair watched Geralt and Jaskier leave and walk away.

“We don’t have to follow them. I think they’ve been chaperoned enough. I think I’ll burst a blood vessel if I have to listen to them try and charm one another any longer.” Tissaia frowned at her empty wine glass.

“We should...debrief.” Yen suggested, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“Debrief?” Tissaia smiled.

“Yes, debrief. Lots and lots to go over, you know…”

“For science.”

“Yes!” Yennefer smiled up at Tissaia. “For science.”

“And more wine?”

“And more wine.”

_ Oh no,  _ we’re _ on a date now. _

* * *

“This is the nicest secondary location I’ve ever been to.” Jaskier said, looking around the bar Geralt had dragged him to.

Before Geralt could make another joke, an emcee came over the speakers. “Hey folks, if you’re looking to sing your heart out this wonderful Friday night, come over to the stage, because karaoke is gonna kick off in just five minutes.”

“Oh good, we’re just in time.” Geralt smiled, watching Jaskier light up.

“I. LOVE. Karaoke!” He exclaimed, nearly bouncing in his seat next to Geralt. “I’ll be right back. Will you get us something to drink? I’ll get us drinks. Don’t go anywhere.” he bounded off to the stage to get his name on the list, and Geralt, predicting he’d be too distracted to remember getting drinks, went to the bar in his stead.

Jaskier was buzzing happily in the seat he’d just left when Geralt came back. “So what’s your karaoke poison?” Geralt asked, clinking their bottles together before drinking.

“Any and everything, to be honest. In college…” he swallowed a little, spinning his bottle a little. “Someone called me a human jukebox. Even if I couldn’t sing it, I’d damn well try, and I’d at least know the words.” He had a pasted-on smile on his face, and Geralt slid closer, putting his arm on the back of Jaskier’s chair.

“You wanna tell me who took that smile away?” Geralt said, dead serious. His fingers gently played with the end of Jaskier’s sleeve.

“Down, Geralt.” Jaskier laughed, a little breathless by the intensity of the look, the promise behind it. “He’s long, long in my past.”

“If I could turn back time.” Geralt shook his head. Jaskier surprised him, barking out a laugh.

“You really are from Canada, aren’t you?”

* * *

Jaskier was called up on the stage not too much later, and Geralt kept watch on his beer for him. Jaskier rambled something into the microphone, excited for his song. Tinny synth bounced out of the speakers to a very 80s-style beat, and for a moment, nobody knew what the song was, especially if a man was singing it. Geralt laced his fingers together and laid his chin atop them, watching Jaskier sway to the beat, skinny hips rotating distractingly. He whooped excitedly into the mic, and grabbed it from its cradle.

_ There’s a boy I know, he’s the one I dream of _

_ Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above _

_ Ooh I lose control, can’t seem to get enough _

_ When I wake from dreaming, tell me - is it really love? _

The crowd tittered with excitement, recognizing the song person by person. Geralt was very amused by Jaskier’s song choice, and even with his own voice pitching the song into a lower croon, he sang very well.

_ How will I know? How will I know? _

_ How will I know? How will I know? _

_ How will I know if he really loves me? _

_ I say a prayer with every heartbeat _

_ I fall in love whenever we meet _

_ I’m asking you ‘cuz you know about these things _

_ How will I know if he’s thinking of me? _

_ I try to phone but I’m too shy _

_ Falling in love is so bittersweet _

_ This love is strong, why do I feel weak? _

The crowd cheered for him, and Geralt felt a sense of distant pride. Jaskier was a wonderful performer, and his enthusiasm for the song obviously wasn’t what the bar was expecting this early in the night. Jaskier glowed under the attention and the stage lights, and Geralt had a good feeling that this was the best idea he’d ever had.

When the song ended, Jaskier muttered something silly about “if you’re tipsy, tip your barmaids” and practically floated all the way back to Geralt, getting pats on the back and compliments all the way. Geralt welcomed him back with another round of applause. “That was fun. I like watching you sing.” Geralt said, trying to convey his own happiness.

Jaskier smiled down at him and took another sip of his beer, still too keyed up to sit just yet. “Are you going to sing?” Jaskier asked, pushing a hand through his hair once more. Geralt liked it like this: fluffy, post-styled, and absolutely wrecked. It reminded him of their activities after the dance.

“No, this is for you. Go sign up again, sweetheart, I see you itchin’ to.” Geralt gave him a pat on the butt, which sent all the blood in Jaskier’s body to his cheeks. He shot off like a rubber band back to the stage.

* * *

When Jaskier’s next song came on, the rest of the bar crowd cheered excitedly to see him back on stage. Geralt remembered Jaskier calling his Whitney Houston rendition a “triumphant performance”, and rolled his eyes. A quasi-tribal backbeat that sounded more like a click track than actual percussion played through the speakers, another 80s song. The sudden music from the backtrack again left the song a mystery to the crowd, but Jaskier nodded his head along, keeping the microphone in its stand this time. Jaskier’s voice hit much higher this time, and many women in the crowd shrieked in recognition.

_ Once I had a love and it was a gas _

_ Soon turned out: I had a heart of glass _

_ Seemed like the real thing, only to find _

_ Once you mistrust, love's gone behind _

Geralt knew the song, he and Jaskier were of an age, but most of his high school and later years were filled with Bad Company and things he would never let Ciri listen to for as long as he could help.

_ Once I had a love and it was divine _

_ Soon found out I was losing my mind _

_ It seemed like the real thing but I was so blind _

_ Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind _

Jaskier had his eyes closed while he sang the chorus, words coming more from the heart than his lips.

_ In between _

_ What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine _

_ Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind _

_ If I fear I'm losing you it's just no good _

_ You teasing like you do _

His eyes flew open, a playful expression on his face as he sang the last few words, shimmying his way through the song. During the musical breaks, he took the wireless microphone with him, rambling into it about how “over-mowed lawns are not a good depiction of natural biodiversity” and “plant a tree, grow some brassicas, but Mother Nature didn’t intend for grass to be uniform and manicured”. He slid seamlessly back into the song when it picked back up, which made Geralt laugh. He’d fallen for a man who was already in love with the spotlight.

Jaskier’s nonsense continued in the song’s outro, saying, “Listen, there are more shades of the rainbow than you’d find on a fairway, did you know there’s a plant native to Michigan called purple coneflower? It’s bloody lovely, birds go absolutely ape over the seeds, please consider adding some native plants to your garden— _ ooh ooh, ooh oh…” _ He received quite the round of laughter and applause at the end of his song, reminding them to be decent humans and tip the staff before going back to his Geralt.

* * *

Geralt received him on his lap, shoulders still shaking with laughter from Jaskier’s karaoke soapboxing. “You’re something else, you know that?” he smiled. Jaskier wound his arms around Geralt’s neck and kissed his cheek.

“Glad you liked it. I can’t take Yennefer to karaoke, she hears my ranting and raving five days a week already.”

“Her loss.” Geralt shrugged. “You look lovely up there.” Geralt nuzzled at Jaskier’s neck, up to his jaw. They’re both pleasantly buzzed and Geralt’s touchy-feely nature wasn’t going away any time soon. “You already sign up again?” Geralt asked, tightening his arms around Jaskier’s waist in preparation for his departure.

“Yeah, I have my next two. Are you sure you won’t sing?” Jaskier pouted, taking a sip of his drink again.

“I wanna watch you sing.” Geralt said. “Maybe I will, in a drink or two.”

“I’ll hold you to that, then.” They shared a soft kiss before watching and applauding the next few singers. Jaskier looked happy watching them, but Geralt knew he really shined with joy when he was the one singing his heart out.

“Ciri said you play guitar at lunch for the students.” Geralt said.

“I do. They seem to love it. I give it thought and everything, make a setlist and I get my own seat on the cafeteria stage…” Jaskier babbled about it for awhile, still never letting go of Geralt. He could stay right here forever. Geralt just watched him with a smile, enjoying his energy and the nice weight of him, keeping him grounded. “...and then they said “you can’t sing that song, it was written by a communist!” and then  _ I _ said “John Lennon is one of the scummiest people you’d ever see and you don’t mind your kids singing Yellow Submarine” and then they said nothing because I was right, which I was. I was right.” Jaskier nodded, ceasing his monologue and drinking.

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Kids don’t know how exhausting their parents are sometimes.” Jaskier sighed, obviously beleaguered by the act of existing. He shot out of his reverie for a moment and looked at Geralt. “Not that you’re exhausting.”

Geralt’s hands tightened on Jaskier’s hips again. “You don’t know that.” Jaskier gaped at him and his salacious leer, and Geralt broke the moment by laughing loudly, tossing his head back. It reminded Jaskier so much of earlier the morning before, when Geralt had laughed at Jaskier’s reverence for a broken flip phone. “Go on, they’re calling you.” Geralt helped him up and patted his butt once more, for encouragement. Sure.  _ Encouragement. _

Jaskier talked with the man in front of the sound equipment for a moment, and Geralt caught his face turning into a displeased pout. They spoke some more, and Geralt was about to get up, when Jaskier took the stage. The previous song was still fading out while he spoke.

“Did you know that Wannabe by the Spice Girls spent eight weeks at the top of the UK singles charts, and twenty-six weeks in the top seventy-five, and has sold over 1.4 million records worldwide?” he said into the microphone. The crowd started to cheer, but Jaskier waved a hand to silence them. “This is not Wannabe. I just wanted to say that. 1.4 million.” The man at the sound booth put his hands up, pleading for mercy from one sassy expat.

“Oh, poor Jaskier.” Geralt mumbled, getting another round of drinks so Jas would have something fresh when he sat down.

Acoustic guitar, bluesy and half-muted, dripped from the speakers, the minor dissonance setting a sultry theme across the bar. Geralt held his breath; he was pretty sure most did as they waited for Jaskier to sing. His voice, when he began, was lower this time, masculine and just-this-side of raspy, singing slower than the original by far. It gave Geralt the impression of a speakeasy crooner, all quiet sin and wanting, wanting.

_ Baby, can’t you see, I’m calling _

_ A guy like you should wear a warning _

_ It’s dangerous, and I’m fallin’ _

Jaskier pulled away from the microphone with a snap of his neck, and snapped back again.

_ There’s no escape, I can’t wait _

_ I need a hit, baby give me it _

_ You’re dangerous - I’m lovin’ it _

Jaskier held the microphone like it was something fleeting and precious, pulling it close to him and looking right at Geralt as he sang.

_ Too high - can’t come down _

_ Losing my head, spinning ‘round and ‘round _

_ Do you feel me now? _

_ Gotta taste of your lips, now I’m on a ride _

_ You're toxic, I'm slipping under _

_ With a taste of a poison paradise _

_ I’m addicted to you _

_ Don’t you know that you’re toxic? _

_ And I love what you do _

_ Don’t you know that you’re toxic? _

Geralt was starting to feel very hot all over, clothes too tight for his body. Every instinct screamed at him to haul Jaskier’s pretty ass over his shoulder and go fuck him mindless in the back of his car, so it was pure restraint that got him through the rest of that smoky, speakeasy-sultry song. He managed to keep it together until Jaskier reached the bridge.

_ Intoxicate me now, with your loving now _

_ I think I’m ready now, I know I’m ready now _

Each repeat of the lines brought his pitch and volume higher and higher, until Jaskier had his head thrown back, practically screaming the words into the air. Other patrons were cheering and shouting for him. The song cut out to silence, and Jaskier brought his head back down, finding Geralt in the crowd.

_ Intoxicate me now! _

With a final sigh into the microphone, the song ended. Chaos, much like the one in the coffee shop yesterday, erupted and Jaskier was beatified as a karaoke god before them all.

* * *

It was hard to keep his hands off of Jaskier, especially after that performance. Geralt whispered all manner of nasty things into his ear, both of them confident and slippery in each other’s hold. He hauled Jaskier into the men’s bathroom and locked them in a stall, furiously pressing his body against Jaskier’s. They were both at least half-hard, Jaskier’s eyes wild and nearly black with lust. Geralt pressed his face into Jaskier’s neck, pulling down the tee so he could get at the man’s collarbone.

Jaskier made the prettiest noises as Geralt sucked bruises along his shoulder, careful to stay away from anywhere that could be seen by young children. His hands pushed up under Jaskier’s shirt, grasping desperately at warm, soft skin. Jaskier panted Geralt’s name as Geralt took him apart. “I have another song to sing Geralt…” Jaskier whined, wrapping his leg around Geralt’s hip and grinding their hips together. He really wasn’t helping his situation.

“I’ll make you sing.” Geralt grumbled, pressing another biting kiss to Jaskier’s lips. He let his head drop to Jaskier’s shoulder, breathing hard. Jaskier made another whine, pouting. “Later, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Geralt pressed kisses of promise along the column of Jaskier’s neck, resting their foreheads together. “You believe me?” Geralt asked, nudging Jaskier’s nose with the tip of his own.

Jaskier nodded. “I believe you.” Devotion, clean and pure, spilled from his tongue, and Geralt captured his trust with his lips like it’d slip away forever if he didn’t.

They eventually left the bathroom, rumpled and pleased, and got new drinks. Jaskier held his cool bottle to his neck, moaning at the feeling. “Easy there, sweetheart.” Geralt grunted, distractedly watching a water droplet run down Jaskier’s neck, darkening the collar of his shirt some.

“When are you singing?” Jaskier asked, changing the topic. Geralt grumbled.

“You sing two more songs and I’ll sing for you.” He conceded. Jaskier’s name was called by the emcee just after. “I choose what song!” Geralt called at Jaskier’s back.

When Jaskier took the stage, he released the microphone from the stand, setting it aside. “Any 80s babies?” Jaskier asked the audience, getting quite a few cheers in return. “This one’s for 80s babies in love.”

The victorious opening chords banged out on the piano, supported by strong, steady drumbeats. As more recognized the song, they sang the background vocals, encouraged by Jaskier, smiling and clapping to the beat before the verse. Jaskier sang the first verse fairly true to the original, overly dramatic and grasping in the air, even singing to the emcee who had done him wrong not thirty minutes before. Geralt smiled through it

_ Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? _

_ Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds? _

_ Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? _

_ Late at night toss and turn and dream of what I need _

Jaskier threw his hands out to the audience, as if conducting a chorus.

_ I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night _

_ He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast, and he's gotta be fresh from the fight _

_ I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light _

_ He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon, and he's gotta be larger than life _

_ Larger than life _

Jaskier grabbed the microphone out of the stand, sprawling back against the wall behind the stage, sliding down it in dramatic angst, through the next verse and chorus. He popped back up to his feet, scanning the crowd. “Geralt! Come here!”

“No!” Geralt protested.

“Can’t you hear me Geralt, I didn’t say I would politely like to request a hero. I said I  _ need _ a hero!” He was pouting, people were laughing amiably, and Geralt couldn’t say no, not for long. He pulled himself up to his feet and walked warily to the stage.

“Yes?” Geralt asked, crossing his arms over his chest how he knew distracted Jaskier the most. Jaskier didn’t reply, already at his cue. He sang directly to him, one hand on Geralt’s shoulder as he danced.

_ Up where the mountains meet the heavens above, _

_ Out where the lightning splits the sea _

_ I would swear that there's someone somewhere watching me _

_ Through the wind and the chill and the rain _

_ And the storm and the flood _

_ I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood— _

Jaskier, through a series of increasingly frantic motions as they got to the final chorus, managed to get Geralt to lift him up on one shoulder, holding him easily, steadily, with a hand on his waist and his face pressed into Jaskier’s hip. Jaskier had an ankle hooked behind Geralt’s shoulder as he belted the last chorus, arm held high like a pageant queen as he commanded the audience.

They were enraptured, helpless to sing along, as Jaskier finished the song. Geralt tried not to draw any more attention to himself, looking up at Jaskier to ensure he wasn’t tilting off-balance. When the song ended, Geralt smirked and threw Jaskier’s weight in the air. There were a few gasps from the crowd, but Geralt was there to catch him, steady and protective. He fell, princess-like, into Geralt’s arms, which had the crowd screaming at the theatrics. Jaskier’s surprised expression was prime real estate for a kiss, in Geralt’s opinion. The bar seemed to agree.

* * *

“Why don’t we practice the acrobatics next time.” Geralt ribbed Jaskier, kindly setting down a cup of tea the bartender had insisted was on the house.

“Yes, outdoor festivals and whatnot. We have all winter to practice.” Jaskier felt high, brain floating along a nice little river that spelled Geralt’s name. He sipped at the tea with a sigh. “Will you put a song on the list for me? Something Swedish. Since you’re on your way up there.” Jaskier’s pleased smile curled into a mischievous grin and sipped the tea again.

“Hmm. Fine.” Geralt grunted, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s sweaty forehead before getting up.

A firm swat on his ass made him jump, whirling on Jaskier, who was sitting right there, innocent and proper as anything. “Hm?” He inquired, even batting his lashes.

Geralt grumbled, only blushing a little, before heading to the emcee.

“He said he wanted ABBA.” Geralt grunted to the man, who stood probably a foot shorter than himself. The emcee scrambled to check his catalogue, blabbering off song titles before Geralt stopped him at the right one. “And I wanna get on the list, too.”

* * *

“Jaskier, come sing your song!” The emcee called a few singers later. Jaskier managed to weave away from Geralt’s hand before it made contact with his ass again, giggling at his victory before nearly bowling over a man with three very full pitchers of beer. Geralt shook his head and chuckled at the sight.

“Any 70s babies out there?” Jaskier murmured into the microphone. The crowd laughed, and a few cheered. “This one’s for 70s babies in love.”

Fantastical, smooth synth played the familiar opening, breaking into a bouncing rhythm Jaskier danced to with his shoulders, mostly. His skills really did go into outdoing Bonnie Tyler.

_ I wasn't jealous before we met _

_ Now every woman I see is a potential threat _

_ And I'm possessive, it isn't nice _

_ You've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice _

_ But now it isn't true, now everything is new _

_ And all I've learned has overturned, I beg of you _

_ Don't go wasting your emotion _

_ Lay all your love on me _

Jaskier’s voice was very tired, Geralt could tell. He probably had a very intricate vocal warm-up routine, and Geralt felt guilty for not preparing him for this performance. However, the joy on his face dissuaded any discomfort from singing five very vocally-intense songs by divas and superstars.

Jaskier collapsed back against Geralt’s lap after the song ended and the applause turned into encouraging cheers for the next singer. “You have fun?” Geralt asked, holding him fast against his chest. Jaskier nodded, a little hoarse from exertion. It was really hard to not watch him swallow.

“I’ll have more fun when you sing.” Jaskier whispered in his ear, tucking back a few strands of white hair. They shared another kiss, sweet as sin. Geralt remembered what he’d promised Jaskier back in the bathroom, and was even more eager to get the damned song he chose over with.

“Funny, I have more fun when  _ you _ sing.” Geralt said, bouncing him a little. “We could always bail before—”

“Gr...Gelt. Gild?” Geralt groaned at the horrible butchering of his name, grumbling into Jaskier’s shoulder, which was shaking softly with laughter. “Uh, Jaskier support staff. You’re up!”

“Best laid plans, hm?” Jaskier said, hopping off of Geralt and standing, letting Geralt up to the front.

It wasn’t walking down a dark hallway to the electric chair, but it certainly fucking felt like it.

* * *

Geralt hardly remembered stepping on stage, suddenly overcome with tremendous anxiety that gripped his chest like a vise. He pulled the microphone out without a scrap of Jaskier’s easy grace, all too aware of the scores of eyes on him at that moment. The mic felt like hot, melting chocolate in his hands, warm from the previous singer and almost slippery from his own nervousness. The silence allowed him to hear the hard, irregular pounding of his heart, and he shot the emcee a glare to  _ get on with it or die. _

“I’ll have you all know I’m under duress.” Geralt said, trying to break the tension. The crowd gave some half-chuckles, obviously as intimidated by Geralt as the emcee.

Finally, finally. Soft crooning instrumental notes, caressed by gentle beats, led the way into the song, rousing a crescendo of excitement from the crowd that did nothing to quell Geralt’s nerves. Geralt tried to find Jaskier’s eyes in the crowd, but it was hard to see through the bright stage lights. His hands were sweaty around the warm microphone as he held it up, and sang.

_ You're just too good to be true - can't take my eyes off of you _

_ You'd be like Heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much _

_ At long last love has arrived, and I thank God I'm alive _

_ You're just too good to be true - can't take my eyes off you _

His voice was rough, and possibly quite off-key, but he persisted. He’d promised Jaskier a song, and a song would be delivered no matter what his anxious heart said to the contrary. He finally, finally found Jaskier’s eyes. He had moved closer, knowing Geralt was looking for him. He started in again on the song, more confident despite his deathgrip on the microphone. He hoped he wouldn’t turn off the power switch by accident. (He also hoped he would.)

_ Pardon the way that I stare - there's nothing else to compare _

_ The sight of you leaves me weak, and there are no words left to speak _

_ But if you feel like I feel, please let me know that it's real _

_ You're just too good to be true - can't take my eyes off you _

The crowd was having a wonderful time seeing the big, burly, white-haired man singing a love song. People were lining up at the sound equipment, spurred by Geralt’s quiet confidence from singing to his date. The music picked up, and Geralt held the microphone away from himself, locking eyes with Jaskier once more, and shaking his body to the beat just a little, enough to make Jaskier (and most of the crowd) laugh. He kicked his legs out before him in a way that felt more like familiar instinct than choreography, though it was more performative than he remembered ever being. He took a big breath for the refrain.

_ I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright, _

_ I need you, baby, to warm a lonely night -  _

_ I love you, baby, trust in me when I say: _

_ Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray _

_ Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay _

_ And let me love you, baby, let me love you… _

“Alright now you sing it, I’m gonna dance with m’sweetheart.” Geralt handed the microphone to the frazzled emcee and stepped down off the stage, on a warpath to Jaskier, who held his arms out to receive Geralt. They fell into one another, swaying softly to the music and never looking away. Geralt’s hands were glad to hold Jaskier, still slick with sweat and shaking a little. Jaskier didn’t comment on it, only pressing himself closer to dance with him again.

The crowd surprised him, singing the words with the karaoke track, some even standing and dancing alongside them. Geralt swayed with a little more vigor when the music picked up again before the upbeat refrain.

They sang the words to each other, not a hint of hesitation between them.

* * *

They barely made it in the door of Jaskier’s apartment.

Geralt was on Jaskier in an instant, kissing him like he needed whatever air Jaskier had in his lungs. They fell together on the couch, laughing at the awkward tangle their legs made. “Alright?” Geralt asked, pushing Jaskier up the couch. Jaskier nodded, still grinning.

“Kiss me.” He demanded. Geralt obeyed, starting at his hip, working his way across his belt to the other, before gently pressing his lips along the trail of body hair by Jaskier’s navel. Jaskier groaned and fisted his hand in Geralt’s hair. Geralt left a little nip at Jaskier’s skin for that, but worked his way up a little faster, getting to the darkening bruises he’d left on Jaskier’s shoulder between songs, groaning himself at the sight. “You like marking me up, Geralt?” Jaskier panted, still a little buzzed but really, really enjoying this.

Geralt didn’t answer, capturing Jaskier’s lips in another kiss, nipping at his lower lip and drawing out a delicious whimper from the man below. Jaskier’s hands roamed all over Geralt’s body, fraying his nerves like old rope. His hands pushed Geralt away, who gave a growl of disapproval from being unlatched to the red bruise he’d been working on around Jaskier’s collarbone.

“I wanna suck your cock.” Jaskier breathed, and Geralt’s world narrowed down into the needle-eye of those words. “Can I suck your cock, Geralt?” He repeated, a little breathier, whinier. Oh, he needed this.

Geralt nodded, pulling back. “I’m clean.” he blurted out, almost embarrassed by the exchange. “Haven’t been with anyone for fucking ever.” He admitted, the truth still being pulled off his tongue.

Jaskier’s bewilderment faded into a pleased smirk, before he pressed kisses down Geralt’s body, a reverse of Geralt’s actions just prior. “I’m clean, too. We can do anything you want to do.” Jaskier purred, kissing over the strong bulge in Geralt’s jeans.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled. “Want your mouth.” Jaskier made quick work of his belt and fly, Geralt helping to shimmy them down his legs.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” Jaskier teased, finally getting Geralt’s briefs down his thick thighs. “Ah, hello again.” Geralt was a little confused, but then almost choked on a laugh as he realized Jaskier was talking to his dick. He hissed as Jaskier wrapped a deft hand around his length, pumping him a few times before gently lowering his mouth down. All thoughts ceased then, and Geralt’s hands buried themselves into Jaskier’s hair, not to force, but to hold on for dear life.

Moans of Jaskier’s name and pretty much every curse Geralt knew were the only things his mind could possibly make up to say. Jaskier’s mouth was hot and wet, and his tongue was doing unspeakably wicked things to Geralt’s cock that made his eyes cross. Breathing steadily was an actual chore as Jaskier bobbed his head.

He pulled back a little, to look Geralt in the eye with a mischievous gleam to his gaze, before sinking down the whole way, pushing his cock deeper into Jaskier’s tight throat. Geralt knew he was shouting and shaking, and he shuddered when Jaskier pulled back up to catch his breath.

“Do that again and I’m going to cum down your throat, sweetheart.” he growled. He watched Jaskier shudder, moaning around the cock in his mouth, which sent little vibrations up Geralt’s entire spine. His gut was tightening quickly, and Geralt tugged on Jaskier’s hair. “You wanna swallow my cum, Jaskier?” He asked, looking him in the eye. Jaskier nodded, almost dazed with lust. “Take me down, c’mon, sweetheart.” Jaskier’s eyes fluttered shut as he bobbed his head, working his way up to deepthroating him again. He was 37 and hadn’t had a good lay in years, give him a break.

Jaskier heard Geralt’s breath choke off as he sank down, slow and sure, until he felt his head hit the back of his throat. He felt so full, then, and couldn’t help the low moan that came from his chest. Geralt gasped out his name before seizing up, his release taking all control from him in a blaze of white-hot pleasure. Jaskier felt him spill down his throat, and stayed still and patient before pulling off with a wet  _ pop. _

Geralt groaned, weak and rough, and melted back against the couch. “You sucked the goddamn life out of me, sweetheart.” he panted. Jaskier laid a kiss to the tip of Geralt’s softening cock before he was hauled up onto the couch with Geralt, a creak to his knees from being on the hard floor. They shared a kiss and Geralt groaned when he could taste himself. His hands were everywhere on Jaskier: in his hair, on his back, pulling him close, rubbing at his poor knees, sliding up his thighs…

“You don’t have to...do anything.” Jaskier breathed, pulling back when Geralt’s hand went higher.

“I want to.” Geralt grumbled, somehow managing to be grumpy in his post-orgasm afterglow.

“No I mean, you don’t...I really,  _ really _ like sucking your cock.” Geralt finally caught his drift, kissing him softly again, unhurriedly, taking his time to hold him. “Did you want to stay?” Jaskier asked between kisses.

Geralt pressed his face to Jaskier’s neck, breathing him in. “I wish I could.” He admitted. “Ciri’s with a sitter, couldn’t get Yen to watch her tonight.” His hand gently petted down Jaskier’s shoulder. This was the best night he’d ever had, and he regretted having to go.

“Hey, don’t look like that. I understand.” Jaskier laughed, voice absolutely wrecked. Geralt took pride in knowing he had something to do with that. “Can you stay here for five minutes? Just cleaning up in the bathroom?” Geralt could have swooned at how sweet Jaskier was.

“I can stay five minutes for you, sweetheart.”

They cleaned up in Jaskier’s cramped bathroom. It was a long fall from the opulent, luxury-architecture wet dream of Geralt’s house, but the intimacy they shared by the sink was warm and cozy. Jaskier changed into some comfy, clean sleep clothes, eyes already drooping into sleep. He still walked Geralt to the door.

“Don’t break your phone again before we get another date.” Jaskier said, poking his finger into Geralt’s chest. Geralt caught the hand quickly and pressed kisses to the knuckles.

“Won’t have time to break it. I don’t wanna wait another week to see you.” His kisses stretched over his thumb and down his palm to a small place at his wrist, leaving a warm, tender kiss there before squeezing it and letting it go. Jaskier was breathless for all of it.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Jaskier murmured, leaning up for another kiss. “Please get home safe, Geralt.”

“I will. Good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night.”

* * *

Geralt made sure the sitter was good enough to drive before paying her handsomely and picking up his sleepy daughter.

“Papa?” She grumbled, so much like him it hurt, sometimes.

“Yes, pumpkin. Puttin you in bed.”

“Was your date good?”

Geralt smiled. “Yes. It was very good. Your idea was the best part.”

“Did you sing too?” Ciri seemed wide awake for the answer.

Geralt sighed. “I did…” he admitted.

“Sing what you sang!!” Ciri squirmed, but they were close enough to her bed that Geralt could drop down with her.

“Just a little, it’s  _ mimis, ma puce _ .” Geralt said, crawling up with her to pet her hair.

_ I love you baby, and if it’s quite alright, _

_ I need you baby to warm the lonely nights _

_ I love you baby, trust in me when I say _

_ Oh pretty baby, don’t let me down I pray, _

_ Oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay, _

_ And let me love you, baby, let me love you… _

“Did you dance like Heef Leggy?” Ciri asked, her sleepy, happy mind already mixing up words.

“I did. We both did.” Geralt smiled, pressing a kiss to her head. “Goodnight,  _ mon chou _ .”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

And it really, really was.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on [tumblr](https://kaermorons.tumblr.com/) and scream at me about this ship


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